A Fond Memory
by Jolie en Rose
Summary: Sometimes a walk of a few blocks turns into a journey into Memory Lane. Please R&R!


**Disclaimer: I do not own the Clique.**

I walked up the block,

My new black slacks creasing with each gradual step.

I didn't want to be doing this,

Not now,

Not ever.

But I suppose one must always face things they don't enjoy.

I jammed my fists into my black trench as a crisp November breeze reddened my cheeks.

The day was very overcast,

Very solemn,

Perfect weather for the time.

I hate to use 'perfect' to describe any aspect of this day, but I suppose it is appropriate.

It won't rain today,

She wouldn't have wanted it that way.

I walk a few more steps before I recognize Old Mr. Cooper's fruit stand.

I remember, we used to always buy the freshest peaches and oranges from him,

Together.

She loved it when I'd make her a smoothie.

One part peach,

Two parts orange,

A pint of vanilla yogurt.

They were perfect on a hot summer's day.

There I go with that "perfect" again.

I guess I know nothing will ever be perfect again.

I guess I just wish I could use the word again

And mean it.

I look up and see Miss Verona's flower shop.

That's where I bought her a bouquet of daisies every week.

Daisies were her favorite flower.

They were bright and sunny,

Second only to her smile.

She used to where them in her hair sometimes.

She had beautiful hair.

Blonde,

Not too light,

Not too dark.

The daisies always looked amazing in her hair.

They really did.

I buy another bouquet,

She still deserves them.

They look like any other bouquet I've bought her,

I guess that's why I need them.

There's that old Hallmark outlet.

I used to buy all my cards for her there.

Birthdays,

Anniversaries,

Miscellaneous.

Anything.

I once bought her a teddy bear in there.

It was for a Valentine's Day once.

It had a big red heart that said "You're Beary Special To Me".

I think she liked it.

She kept it on her bed.

I know,

I'd seen it there.

I meant it too.

She was beary special to me.

Beary, beary special.

Still is though.

Still is.

From my peripherals I see Donnatella's,

The little cafe where we had our first kiss.

It was a warm spring day,

I remember she ordered an egg cream.

She loved egg creams.

I always asked her why there were no eggs in an egg cream.

It was our little joke.

I promised I'd put an egg in her egg cream once,

I was going to too.

She was sipping her egg cream she was,

She looked so extra pretty that day.

She was wearing some daisies in her hair.

I ordered myself a Dr. Pepper,

She said to me, she said she'd never tasted a Dr. Pepper before.

Of course, I had to let her sip.

I guess I just wanted to make it official though,

Since she was sipping from my glass and all.

Nobody's sitting in the outdoor tables now,

It's too cold.

Our table is available.

We always ended up at that table when we ate there.

Maybe I'll go in there for an omelet or something someday.

Not today.

Not for a while.

Not for an egg cream.

I'm at the gates.

The limos haven't gotten here yet.

They told me I shouldn't have walked.

All I can do now is wait.

I look up at the trees surrounding me.

They're almost naked by now.

Two amber ones are still hanging on to the one right above me.

Her and me.

I close my eyes for a brief second.

I feel something gently tumble unto my head.

Now there's only one amber leaf.

Just like in real life.

I look away for one second,

And something so precious is plucked.

I squeeze my eyes shut,

And gum my bottom lip.

"Mr. Fisher, are you ready?" the funeral director asks me gently.

I believe her name is Regina.

I can't muster up the words,

But I shake my head.

She nods and goes to direct the crowd the right way.

Derrick, Chris, Chris, and Josh ease the casket out of the car.

I move out of the way and make my way to the plot.

They nod towards me and I return the gesture.

Claire squeezes my arm and guides me to where it will be lowered.

I see Cam out of the corner of my eye.

He's still on crutches;

His whole left side is banged up;

I can still see the scars on his face.

He was behind the wheel that night.

His Mercedes will never be the same.

I know he's hurting more then his leg though.

I know he feels guilty.

That's why I can't hate him.

I was the one who asked him to take her to the florist.

She didn't want to see me.

She respected tradition too much.

They're lowering her down now.

Deep into the ground.

Away from me.

I put the bouquet by her tombstone.

They all leave.

They ask me to come with them.

I can't pull myself away.

I need just one more minute.

I take a breath.

I wriggle with my left hand.

I bring the band to my lips before placing it next to the flowers

In front of the stone.

"RIP Kristen Michelle Gregory- Daughter, Lover, Friend."


End file.
